angelface13: i love Animal Kingdom
mybest: we can’t get in there at night without being busted, i don’t need any trouble, my aunt is using my DHI money for my college.
Finn: the guy who chased philby and me…turns out he’s with the old guy…he can get us in around 5 am, when the park is waking up. there’s work to do before then, we need to know everything there is to know about the park
mybest: such as?
Finn: layout and cast members—that’ll be willa. electronics and security—philby, of course, including the coldest buildings, maybeck will find out everything about the animals—their feeding, where they’re kept, how dangerous they are. charlene: we may need costumes, ways to blend in.
i’ll IM with amanda. she mentioned her sister’s diary, amanda will be part of this. Anyone have any trouble with that?
No one typed a thing.
Finn: okay, good luck getting out of your houses, i’m going on bike, we should all bring our DSs so we can communicate, everyone has one, right?
He waited. No one came on to say they didn’t own a DS.
Finn: meet up with a food truck at 4:45 am outside the entrance to the Animal Kingdom Lodge, the dapper dan guy will be driving, if anyone can’t make it early, we’ll all meet after the main gates open on the path leading in to the Rainforest Café, agreed?
mybest: i’m in
philitup: me too.
willatree: likewise
angelface13: what if we can’t find jez?
Finn had half expected a question like that from Charlene. But he wasn’t prepared for the sinking feeling in his gut as he read it. His fingers hesitated briefly above the keyboard. And then he typed.
Finn: that’s not an option.
12
FINN DIDN’T GET ANY great joy from sneaking out of his house at 1 AM. His parents were pretty good about giving him his privacy and space. The two things they asked in return were honesty and trust. He broke their trust by opening his second-story window and shinny-ing down the fire rope installed for emergencies. The only justification for his actions was that this qualified as an emergency—though he’d never be able to explain it to them. If caught, he’d be grounded for all eternity.
He quietly walked the Hawk Tracer BMX out to the sidewalk. Then he climbed onto the bike and took off down the sidewalk. It was the most beautiful bike he’d ever owned—silver-and-black frame, monkey bars, alloy levers—and it ripped along, teasing him into trying a few tricks, such as jumping curbs and popping wheelies, which he resisted because of the dark.
He kept to the residential streets as much as possible, avoiding the busier avenues, afraid that a policeman would stop and question a kid on a bike. It was a long ride, and he settled into a rhythm of slowing at stop signs, looking in all directions for headlights, and then crossing—but never fully stopping. The residential streets were totally quiet and empty of cars. Soon he had two miles behind him. Then three. He crossed two major avenues, finding his way into Orlando’s older neighborhoods, one connecting to another. Finally, the residential gave way to the commercial. He flew past shuttered buildings, businesses of every kind: psychic readings, dry cleaning, a yarn store, a bakery, dozens of restaurants and coffee shops, dog grooming, curtains and drapes, lamps, a half dozen banks, and a copy shop. He spotted the red tile roof and stucco walls of a building he’d been to once before. Amanda’s house.
It had a tall, stained-glass window in the front, just below a squared-off steeple that showed a white angel against a blue background. Maybe it had once been a church.
He pulled the bike around back to an apron of cracked blacktop that had once been a parking lot. He locked the BMX to a metal railing and then circled the building, wondering, What now? He’d never been inside Amanda’s house before, though he assumed, from what she’d said, that she and Jez had separate bedrooms. Each ground-level window had a grid of heavy wrought-iron bars on the outside to protect against burglars; it gave Finn a ladder to climb. He went from the railing to the bars on a window, grabbed hold of an iron pipe running from the gutters, threw a knee up over the edge, and pulled himself onto the Spanish-tile roof. He walked gingerly, for the first tile he stepped on cracked.
A shade was pulled down blocking the first window he reached. Finn edged around the corner to another window with its shade up. There was a small solar panel propped up on the window ledge. It was dark behind the glass. Finn cupped his face to the glass and was able to make out an empty bed. There were no posters on the wall—no artwork at all. The place looked dumpy and unlived-in. He took this to be Jez’s room. There were no bars across the second-story windows, so he tried to open one, but it didn’t budge. He moved along slowly; the roof was steeply pitched. The Spanish tile felt smooth and slippery beneath his sneakers.